Wandering Tales
by Anna McNarin
Summary: PSoH drabbles, expect them to slowly amass until otherwise noted.
1. Weight

_  
"Weight"_

* * *

One hundred cups of medicine so bittersweet would take one thousand years before the shell around his heart would think to crack.

With each passing year another coat of blood weighs him down, and it would not surprise him if his heart cease to beat; like the shadows of Pompeii, a cast of what has passed away.

From shattered lives and broken wings something deep within his soul still stirs, heavily lined with that he refuses to shed.

Were it not so, the shell around his heart would cease to grow.

Perhaps then he could forget that birds, and men all bleed red.

* * *

_  
Inspired by Shin volume three, chapter eight, "Double Exposure"._

_Written for the PSoH Drabble community on LJ._

_Challenge #265_ _Just a Verb_

_Word count: 103_

_Three over the limit, but I just couldn't bring myself to reword a passage off by so little.  
_


	2. Pop

There is only so much pressure a balloon can withstand before it stretches, the coloured plastic wearing thin, before it reaches its limit and sounds off with an obstinate pop that lingers long after the affect is gone.

He had to wonder that day, what it was D put in the tea that made him liken the shopkeeper's eyes to balloons. _A strange thought, on a stranger day_, he mused. A day commanded by comfortable silence, an unnerving occurrence for them both if the taunt sheen of D's wandering gaze were any clue. _I guess D is a man after all; uncomfortable unless he's fighting, even if all he does use are words._

"I wonder, Detective, what would you do without limbs and voice?"

Blue eyes peer at the cup nestled in his hand, and back to the dark eyes dancing across his features. "I'm not going to fail a drug test am I?"

One tight, amused smile, is all that it takes to remind him that he had been thinking about balloons. The corner of his mouth lifts, and he surprises himself by smiling back without feelings of ill will. He could swear D's eyes flashed as they narrowed, if just for a second.

_What would it take to pop this balloon?_

"Detective?"

Leon stops then, tea cup half way between the ornate table and his relaxed lips. The china meets neither, his hand coming to rest on his knee, a rarely credited thought rouses him into aligning his gaze with that of D's.

Curiosity tilts the elegant man's head a near imperceptible degree to the left, tension visibly leaving the man's mouth though the smile remained. By the time Leon set his cup down, and laced his fingers, eyes never moving, D's smile had slipped into a press.

"Are you well, Detective? You seem at a loss for words."

He couldn't have stopped it had he tried, Leon's parted lips cracked into a real smile. D's cup made a soft clink as it met the saucer, as an equally soft chuckle rose from his throat.

"Would you care for a cherry tart, Leon?" Delicate hands gesturing to the tea cart as he stood to cut the blonde a slice.

His smile had barely morphed into a genial curve when D set the dish before him, top lashes turned down, host mask secure, as long violet nails combed his hair over an ear. Multicoloured eyes lingered a second too long on his sharp blue, though in truth a mere second was all it was, and Leon found himself pressing forward. In a breath of white tea and cigarettes he blatantly mouthed one word over the Count's lips: Pop.

* * *

_  
This was inspired by Challenge #257, Balloon, over on LJ's PSoH Drabble community, and PSoH Side Story One._

_Readers may take this short how they like, I rather follow in Ms. Akino's footsteps and not define the on-goings between the Count and his dear Detective. Besides, isn't not knowing half the fun? ;-)_

_Coming in at 449 words, I declare this an excerpt.  
_


	3. Conversation Hearts

* * *

_"Conversation Hearts", rated PG-13/T for language, and implied scenarios._

* * *

As everyone knows, it's impolite to stare but, really, what did the man expect? It couldn't possibly be envy. Gratitude maybe, for not parading into his shop like an ally cat in heat dangling this plastic monstrosity before him. Yes, definitely a sense of gratitude towards the man, and a fair bit of relief as it occurred to him that his being away may have saved him. Apparently though, not by much, as if sensing his lingering gaze the loud man was heading his direction with his . . .

"D! What are you doing here?"

His tone is friendly rather than accusatory, but it does take him a moment to formulate a reply. He blames the "Protect Your Nuts" t-shirt the cop is wearing, and the supple lime & apple accessory tied to his back jean pocket.

"The same thing you are, Officer, enjoying an afternoon in the park, taking in the sights." His eyes glance just once behind the detective, and had Leon not been in eye contact he would have missed the movement, but it was enough to bring a faint blush to his cheeks as he turned.

"Uh, yeah. Count D I'd like you to meet my friend Candice Hart, Candice."

"Candy, please."

"Ah, like the Conversation Hearts," the Count purred as he stood, never minding the woman's outstretched hand, which she quickly retracted into the pockets of her fuchsia windbreaker when she realized.

Her painted mouth twisted into an unsure smile, "umm, yeah." Green eyes darting back to Leon.

"Dammit, D, don't start with this shit, can't you be nice for once? It's bad enough everything reminds you of sweets."

"My dear Detective, I have been nothing but polite. And Conversation Hearts are not sweets, they're made of synthetic ingredients compacted into a man-made shape promoting nothing but cavities and bad English."

"Man, you're in a real mood. Sugar is sugar."

"I highly doubt that particular candy is made of real sugar."

Leon snorted. "Sure, and the white powder on Necco wafers really is the same crap they put on condoms."

D momentarily deadpanned, then smiled. "So it may be, but I'm sure you'll agree that neither belong in your mouth. After all, some plastics, and powders, are harmful to ones health."

Frozen, stunned, mouth agape, Leon mustered a heavy breath, took hold of the arrested woman beside him, and with a growl to do justice to his namesake stormed off, dragging the startled young lady away. The smirk on D's face lasted well into the night.

* * *

_I am just on a roll this week, absolutely terrible at limiting myself to 100 words, but ideas tend to write themselves._

_Challenge #266_, _Candy Heart, over on PSoH Drabbles on LJ._

_Word Count: 450_

* * *


	4. Firecracker

_"Firecracker", rated PG-13/T for strong language._

* * *

From the tips of his curled toes to parted lips, frosty but for a warm pink tongue, a flush pooled into his pale cheeks like a wildfire given flesh. Almond shaped pits of smoldering charcoal and ember fluttered in and out from behind curtains of black lashes, timed to the beat of a heart gasping for breath. Tongue hit teeth with a flick.

_"You expect me to believe Mrs. Landsbury is a goddamn Phoenix? What the fuck; tasting your own merchandise, Count?"_

_"You don't believe in spontaneous combustion, My Dear Detective?"_

Long nails bit into the satiny surface of his palm, arms locked at his sides despite the apparent tremble, and the unwavering vision of a nonchalant Detective sucking a cigarette between slices of bruised apricot lips across a strip of blistered wood. Not a soul dared to break the precarious line between the darkening, still blue waters of the west and the glow of molten earth from the east, lest the world as they know it end.

_"Sure I do," he answered without preamble. _

_One deft flick of his fingers, and a small snap of the wrist, was all it took for the Count to scream his name._

From the ashes rose not an immortal bird, but a thinly veiled voice asking, "do you know I once found a dictionary that gave the definition of "fuck" as "to over turn dirt"?

Leon blinked at being addressed, his gaze narrowing. "Misprint."

"An acute possibility, but I rather wonder if the writer hadn't found some truth to it. After all, the meaning of a word can be defined by context, can it not?"

* * *

_Inspired by Challenge #268, Spontaneous Combustion._

_Word Count: 298_

_Notes: If you just read this short and have no clue what happened either go back and read into _everything _or message me, I don't mind explaining. :)  
_


	5. Things on Leon's Desk

_"Things on Leon's Desk", Rated PG-13/T for suggested drug use, and language._

* * *

"Am I doomed to find infinity in crude shirt buttons until this wears off?"

"Yes, and will you stop that! What the fuck are you doing?"

"Certainly not you." D slapped a hand over his mouth and reddening cheeks. "I did not mean to say that."

"I noticed. Anything else?"

D cupped Leon's lips within his own in a sharp pressing pull. Leon followed two seconds later, launching the Count into his sofa, looking for Hell until the upside down shopkeeper gasped out, "it's been a hour and a half ! Aren't you late getting back?"

God he hated stoners.

* * *

_Challenge #269, Time Travel_

_Written for the PSoH Drabble Community._

_Word Count: 100 (yay, I finally did it.) XD_

_The original version of this reads at just over 300 words, gives the reason for the scene, and keeps them more in character, but I think Leon and D need a taste of just how some of their conversations could sound taken out of context, which is exactly what I did. And if you haven't picked up on it, my titles are clues. XD  
_


	6. Smooth

_"Smooth", rated PG/K+ _

* * *

Someone upstairs had to hate him, he mused, gaze locked on the wet tip of tongue pushed flat against a bright red straw. Leon shifted in his seat as plum colored flesh parted, the plastic catching on the down curve of top lip, before vanishing with a satisfied sigh; the straw turning blood red, and a slight flush arising on the delicate face, eyes closed in contentment as juice filled his mouth.

The Count groaned, "Leon, you simply must try one of these fruit smoothies." His glazed eyes alighting on the blushing, twitchy cop.

"No thanks, I prefer straight beer."

* * *

_Loosely inspired by Challenge 271._

_Word Count: 100 (go me, two times in a row)  
_


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